I began my trials with LSD in January of 2008. The first time was on a Saturday. I was home alone, and I was in a good state of mind. The only problem was that I had a few doubts about the source I had acquired the tabs from. They were younger distributors, and somewhat new to the business. I had no reason to doubt that their tabs were LSD, but some previous customers had complained they were slightly on the weak side.

I slipped a quarter-inch blotter under my tongue. The paper was thick, almost like cardboard, and adorned with fractal patterns. It had no taste whatsoever. About forty minutes later my skin started to flush, and within an hour there was a nice full-body high, but only the slightest of visuals. A second tab was taken, and between two and three hours in, a hallucinogenic state flowered into being. There was some wavy movement of objects with my eyes open, and a profoundly increased level of detail in my surroundings, with intensified light, color and shadow.

After about four hours, the mental effects became more prominent. There were looping and wandering thoughts, somewhat reminiscent of the confusion produced during the onset of a mushroom trip. But there were also moments of lucidity, reflection, and clear articulation. Throughout the day, my pulse rate increased and decreased unpredictably in fluctuating cycles. One of the most distinctive and constant visual effects was a tendency of letters to 'wiggle'. In fact, words seemed to swim upon their pages, or whatever they were printed onto. It was beautiful to watch, but could be distracting if I wanted to read a book. The effect was constant, and long lasting: Even shortly before I went to bed, I caught the large blue print on the packing crate in the corner of my study rippling and echoing around the edges.

The effects seemed to be gone the next day, but for several days there was a vague sense that something remained altered under the surface. On one occasion I smoked some pot several days after the trip had ended, and acid-like visual and emotional states once again became noticeable. It was obvious that I was dealing with a powerful drug. The visuals were perhaps not as strong as I had expected, but they were very clear and crisp, with a unique beauty of their own. The mental state gave way to profoundly emotional twists and turns and a sort of mystical confusion. But I couldn't help but think I had missed something, that a greater treasure still remained to be unlocked.

There were a couple more small doses that failed to deliver that missing element, and even a skirmish with bad prints containing a DOx chemical. Then I happened upon some new blotters that I had reason to believe were of the highest possible quality. It was time to finally get to the bottom of LSD's mystery, and I chose to do so with the company of a friend.

In early March, I met up with 'C': A University student with similar interests who I met a few months back. C had previous experience, including having had the opportunity to thoroughly explore 4-AcO-DMT. He had expressed an interest in LSD to me, but before this day he had never taken a long-lasting drug. C is a 150 pound male in his mid twenties.

It was Sunday. C and I planned on meeting up early, but he got a bit lost and showed up shortly before noon. I brought him in, and introduced him to my girlfriend. She diverted her attention away from her cooking show and greeted him. I then showed him around the various rooms of my apartment, which I had recently decorated with a number of paintings and prints.

We settled in the Study: A second bedroom that I converted into a place to manage my computer, my DVDs, my music, and my chemicals. He commented on the Perkinson print on my wall, a very colorful layout with a bird spirit beside a kachina doll. Then he surprised me with a very kind gift: Samples of some 4-substituted tryptamines from his own collection, suspended in a liquid-filled eyedropper bottle. I added the sample jar to my refrigerator. We talked for a few minutes: I asked him how he felt, and if there were any preparations he wanted to tend to, or any plans he had for the day. C decided to take a small supplement of L-Theanine as an anti-anxiety treatment to combat his trepidation. After that, he was ready. He had come prepared with bottled water and plenty of his own musical selections. We were content to spend the time indoors relaxing and simply see where things went.

I took notes on a notepad once we got started. Before I share what happened, I would like to describe the acid tabs we were working with. These were bicycle prints, from Europe: Commemorating Albert Hoffman's bicycle ride and his first trip on LSD. They were highly-priced, yet nobody who buys them ever seems to complain. I could not get my source to divulge exactly what the dose per tab is. But in my estimation at the time, 250mcg per tab seems like it could be about accurate. Later, I asked my distributor to determine the exact dosage for me. He eventually talked to laboratory contacts who were involved in preparing the tabs, got back to me, and told me that the dosage per tab was 200 micrograms.

[Erowid Note:
Claims of measured microgram dosages for LSD are usually unsupported. Quantitative measurements for LSD are very difficult to do and cannot be done casually. Without further detailed information about how the measurements were derived, it is reasonable to assume that most statements of microgram dosages of LSD on blotter or in microdots are either misinformed or overstated.]

This was our bicycle day: A day to discover the true power of LSD.

11:55 AM: C & I take 1 tab each and hold them under our tongues. There is a bit of a chemical taste. It is not like the sickly-bitter taste of a DOx blotter, it is the metallic taste of a significant dose of lysergic acid. It washes away with a sip of water.

12:05 PM: I put on an album of relaxing music. C shows me a necklace he recently got: A silver serotonin molecule! Something I've seen many times before in pictures but never yet laid eyes on in person. It's beautiful.

12:30: We are very talkative. I show him a diagram of the LSD molecule online and discuss the differences between lysergides and tryptamines. Then the conversation drifts and we talk about the Dreamachines invented by Brian Gysin. I'd like to build one as a decoration for my home. C talks about how primitive stroboscopic light experiments like Gysins influenced more sophisticated light-flicker therapies that came later on.

12:40: We're still only feeling the faintest of effects. There's a little bit of chest tension, and we're feeling anxious, as though something big might happen soon. There is also a noticeable body high. But definitely no visuals.

12:50: We had agreed that if we weren't overwhelmed by around the one hour point, we would consider a second dose. Perhaps I didn't give as much thought as I should have to the unusual potency of these blotters, and the possibility they might take more than an hour to sink it. I go to my sheet and cut two more squares off with a pair of scissors. Soon we are tasting the chemical again while music plays behind us.

1:00: C is seeing rippling patterns with his eyes closed. I feel tenseness under my skin and a connection between my state of being and C's. I feel that the same energy is rippling through us both, what is behind his eyes and under my skin is the same force. Nobody else can understand my state except for him.

1:05: C puts his iPod on to listen to his own music. I turn mine off, finding that I prefer the silence.

1:15: C is getting sucked into his own world now. He finds it’s easier not to talk. I cannot find a neutral state and I cannot ignore the fact that something enormous is starting to happen. Silence is very powerful.

1:20: C is completely swept away. So am I. It is difficult to speak.

1:30: There are still more closed than open-eye visuals. But the raw sensation of the drug is becoming intense. Our faces are flushed, and there are feelings of pressure against our skin. I see a flash of emotion appear in C’s face. I ask him, “What are you feeling?” He says, “Euphoria. I wasn’t expecting it, but… it’s really strong.” His face twists into a strange smile. So does mine.

1:35: I am stricken by a wave of anxiety mixed with mild nausea. The euphoria is deepening… the substance seems to sink into every atom of my flesh. It is getting difficult to manage.

1:40: I wander into the bathroom and throw up. I feel better afterwards. I brush my teeth and wander back out to the study.

1:45: I play a song. In the chorus, the artist sings, 'And I puuuuuuuuuush your body out into space...' I close my eyes, and there I am: Floating in a great black void. The singer's words propel me as he continues: 'Let it go, watch it drift awaaaaaaaaaay...' and away I drift. Living the song, floating in space.

1:50: The song ends. I open my eyes and look at C. He looks very peaceful.

1:55: The substance is rising in intensity. It's not peaceful anymore. I am dumbfounded. C looks panicked. We are both starting to get dizzy.

2:00: I look into C's wide-open eyes. He is becoming overwhelmed. He looks at me. 'Oh Fuck...' he says. It is beginning to dawn on him just how powerful this thing is that he will be inundated with for the next ten hours.

I respond to his outburst: 'Yes, I know. The world's not the same as it was yesterday, is it?'

In a hushed whisper, C replies “...no, it's not.”

“The only thing that bothers me is that I can’t define it. I can’t explain what’s changed about the world. But everything's changed. It’s just too much to put into words!”

When we close our eyes, we are met with kaleidoscopic swirls, abstract patterns, and bizarre flowing textures. C saw something that looked like fishnet stockings with eyeballs emerging from them.

2:15: C looks like he might fall over. He tells me he needs to lay down. He asks me to get him a blanket, so I run into the other room and grab my familiar black, red and blue quilt. C covers himself, saying 'I think I just need to go with this.' He closes his eyes, pulls the blanket over his head, turns on his music player and slips away into his own universe...

2:30: The substance peaks, and we are both awestruck. A great and terrifying realization is dawning on us. It feels like we are waking up to a greater truth. A truth that is extremely difficult to accept.

.....there are no timelines after this. There was no measurable time to make them out of. Only an eternity of awe. Awe, in a word, was the predominant effect of this drug. Why was a mature, intelligent graduate student grimly curled into a ball on the couch as hours slipped by? Awe. Why did I stare away for those same hours, never daring to say a word? I was in awe! There was a problem with communication from this point on. I wanted to define the event that was unfolding, as if to assign limits to its limitlessness. But most of my attempts at articulation got muddled. It seemed like I was caught in an infinite riddle that threatened to destroy my thoughts as soon as they formed.

Sometime after four, we broke our silence. Talking seemed a little awkward, almost forced. Each of us understood what the other was going through, but neither of us could really express it. C told me he understands how a substance like this is not addictive... because it is euphoric, but also very difficult. We talked about the pleasure, how it had gone so far overboard that it was difficult to endure. The chemical-induced joy was unlike anything we had ever felt before. We vacillated between wanting to embrace it, and hoping it would just end. C had on-and-off discomfort in his lower digestive track and frequently needed to urinate. He never got nauseous, though. He lost himself for hours at a time just listening to music in the darkness. Later he told me he felt extreme empathy and connection for all kinds of music. With every song he played, it felt like he was right on stage, hearing the band live. With every word and sentence that the singers spoke, he felt like he could understand *exactly* what they meant, on a deeper level than ever before.

We listened to a lot of music. Sometimes together, other times each on our own. It was always a delicate matter. The impact of the songs chosen was enormous, so there was no room for anything agitating. At one point I pulled C out from under his blanket and asked him what kind of music he was listening to. He explained that it wasn’t really music, but a lifeline to keep him connected to reality. I agreed. I went back to my own playlist, and picked my lifelines very carefully.

At about Five my girlfriend got back home. She will soon be quitting this awful job that's got her working on the weekends, but they had called her in to do something from noon to five. I left the study to say hello to her. C was still in the other room, laying under his blanket in a state of rapture. She knew that C and I would be taking acid today but she had no idea what kind of an experience we were emerged in. “Your pupils are dilated,” she said innocently. “It’s an intense day,” I explained. I took her by the arm and walked over to the couch to sit down. I had her tell me how her day had been for a few minutes, not wanting to comment on mine at such a critical time. There was a separation between us. C and I were locked into something that she could not begin to understand. It was difficult to connect with someone who was not drenched in the same energies as me, surviving the same situation.

Before I walked back out into the study, I stopped to look at the painting on our living room wall… not a print, but an actual painting from a little-known artist. It is a portrait of a French woman on a bicycle, with her arms in the air. The bicycle is perched upon the moon, and a dark blue sky is cast behind them. The blue crept with depth and emotion, the woman's face looking uncannily real. I could empathize with the character, feeling for all her rippling details. Maybe the lady who jumps with joy while lost in outer space could understand a situation like mine.

For the first half of our LSD experience, the mere concept of eating was unthinkable. Food became just a series of interestingly textured objects: strange things to be stared at but not consumed. We stayed well-hydrated all day, me drinking an endless stream of sodas while C stuck to bottled water. It was well past six when we finally managed to drag ourselves into the kitchen and swallow something solid. I had a couple of toaster pastries and a pork dish, and C baked a barbecued chicken pizza. He ate two slices of it while I went through half a bowl of pork… both of us talking about how good the food tasted and how glad we were to be able to eat again. Then C put the remainder of a pizza slice down, proclaiming “Jesus, now I’m not hungry anymore!” A mutual wave of physical intensity had pushed to the surface in both of us. I started to feel uncomfortable about the meat I had just eaten and could not finish my meal.

The concept of time became tougher to comprehend as the substance droned on in never-ending waves. How many times did we lose ourselves in a dream for an hour or three, sitting in music or silence, waiting for the energy to pass? Was it at Nine when we first started thinking the symptoms might be fading away, only to feel the energy rise back to the surface again at Nine-Thirty? It died down the same way it came on: In a complex series of layers that unfolded gradually. It seemed to be gone many times only to rise back to the surface, but each time it was resurrected one shade weaker than before. Was it the sixth time that it left when it finally stayed away? The ninth time? The fourteenth? Who could say. I was still affected by it even at midnight. C said he still had effects fourteen hours after dosing.

So how did this end? C went home a little past 11:00. His girlfriend drove by and picked him up. He left looking almost as shocked as he had looked at 2:30, and he told me it would take several days to completely process this. Afterwards, I recouped with my girlfriend. At first I couldn't talk directly about what had just transpired. I just wanted her to hold me close. Eventually I broke in by asking her, 'What do you think a spiritual experience is? What do those two words, 'spiritual experience', mean to you... how would you describe it? How do you define it?'

I had her tell me specific examples of times in her life when she felt that she had undergone spiritual growth, or felt a closeness with God. I asked her what the spirit meant to her. And finally, I explained that I had just had a spiritual experience of my own. I compared it to the times in my life when something had happened that forced me to change and grow. The times when something great or terrible occurred that shocked me so utterly, that I could not even function for days afterwards. It's after a shock that we discover who we really are. I cried. I told my girlfriend how gracious I was to be alive. How thankful I was for yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

The awed silence that C and I experienced, coupled with that penultimate sensation of throbbing bone-deep euphoria to the point of bitter frustration, this was comparable not only to a shocking experience that induces spiritual growth. It was also comparable to being in the direct presence of a higher power. Imagine the feeling of waiting your entire life to ask God a few important questions. Then one day he appears before you, and he is so strange, so powerful and so beautiful, that you can't even dare to open your mouth. You can only stare in awe, knowing that the answers do not matter. That is a lot like the feeling I got from the energy of lysergic acid coursing through my flesh and blood into my soul. I was in the presence of something so much bigger than myself that I could only bow down in quiet appreciation, hoping not to disgrace the holiness of the moment.

LSD is more than just a psychedelic. It carries the powers of many different classes of drugs in the space of a tiny droplet. I could feel it in my soul, and I will never again doubt that the spirit is real. Lady Delysid... you are boundless!

COPYRIGHTS: All reports are copyright Erowid and you agree not to download or analyze the report data without contacting Erowid Center for permission first.
Experience Reports are the writings and opinions of the individual authors who submit them.
Some of the activities described are dangerous and/or illegal and none are recommended by Erowid Center.